The Adventures of little Stevie Rogers
by mmm1912titanic
Summary: Or 'Why Witches Shouldn't be allowed near the Avengers.' In which Captain America is suddenly a little kid, Natasha gets a taste of 'motherhood', and all Iron Man wants to do is take a nap. But just because Cap is a kid doesn't mean he isn't a hero or that the bad guys aren't coming. It's gonna be one hell of a ride.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note: I think it goes without saying, but I do not own The Avengers; I only wish I did! Please review if you feel like it. This is done purely for entertainment :) **

The Avenger's really couldn't catch a break, thought Tony as he activated the bracelets on his wrists to call his suit to him. They couldn't even go out for brunch without some psycho witch trying to turn the hostess into a pop tart.

Across from him Natasha and Clint peer over the buffet table. Both of them had pulled guns from god knows where. Whatever she sees causes Natasha to swear long and hard in Russian. Besides Tony, Bruce is repeating mantras to himself trying not to hulk out. That's the last thing any of them need at this point.

Thor is in New Mexico somewhere so that means the only member not currently cowering in fear of a woman wearing hoop earrings and waving crystals is the capsicle—who had headed off to the restroom right before this all started.

"Hey," says an all to familiar voice. "Lets all calm down here."

Tony closes his eyes. Well, that answered that question. He looks at his watch. The suit had turbo thrusters but it still had to get all the way across town. Give it…three minutes.

"Calm?" screeches the witch. "They chose this bitch to replace me!"

"You weren't giving proper respect to the goddess! How can you lead if you can't sit through the rituals?" yells another female voice. The hostess, Tony guesses. He couldn't remember what she sounded like, but man she'd smelled fantastic. Like sandalwood and incense come to think of it. He shakes his head. Should have been a major tip off.

"We're witches. We don't need to give fucking respect." Something explodes and they all hit the deck as plates whiz overhead and crash into the back wall. Bruce's voice rises a bit, the mantras gaining fervor.

"I'll teach you to respect authority!" yells the hostess.

"Whoa, wait!" yells Steve.

There's a bang and a flash of light so bright Tony's completely blind for nearly a minute. A minute in which Steve starts screaming, the sound getting higher and higher before tapering off into what sounds like sobbing.

Which can't be right. Steve Rogers, Mr. Tight Ass, himself doesn't cry. Not even a manly sniffle. And there's nothing manly about this sound.

It's at this point that Tony's suit decides to show up. It enfolds him and the second the faceplate snaps shut, Tony knocks the buffet table away and strides forward into chaos.

Patrons are huddled in various groups, broken crockery and spilled food everywhere. The hostess stand is nothing but charred wood. The original witch and the hostess witch are still standing, but appear to be in shock, staring down at a small blond head sticking out of a very large plaid shirt.

For a second Tony's sure that Steve's body is just gone. That all that's left is his head. Then the shirt moves, the head lifts. It's not Steve, Tony thinks, with the part of him that isn't gibbering in panic. It can't be. This being is much too tiny, much too little to be the pain in his ass captain.

But as the hostess starts wailing apologies and picking bits of food out of the small beings hair, Tony realizes it _is_ Steve. Just a baby version of Steve. He can't be more than six or seven years old, skinny as a horse on it's way to the knackers, all blond hair and blue eyes. He stares up at the hostess in utter confusion and then over at Tony.

Instead of screaming like Tony is half expecting, Steve frowns. "What happened?" he asks.

Tony hesitates, unsure how to respond. The hostess responds for him.

"I'm so sorry!" she says. "I meant to turn Karen into a kid, not you!"

The witch, Karen, looks spooked. "Holy crap, Amy," she says. "Why would you do that?"

"You were destroying my restaurant! I was just trying to teach you a lesson." Amy turns back to Steve. "It's not permanent, I swear. It'll wear off in a couple of months."

"A couple of months?" Tony yells as Steve asks, "What will wear off?" He turns frightened eyes at Tony and Tony nearly melts. Admittedly the Avengers have a hard time dealing with Steve's puppy eyes when he's in adult form. As a kid it's devastating.

"Steve," he says carefully. "Do you know what year it is?"

This makes Steve frown. "Of course I do," he says. "I didn't hit my head, Stark." He looks down at himself, frown deepening. "Tony?" he asks after a second, voice tentative. "Did I shrink?"

"Sort of," he takes a couple of steps forward and sinks down so he's eye to eye with Steve. "You're a kid, Rogers. A really little kid." He glares up at Amy when Steve pales.

"Rogers?"

Steve's head jerks up at the sound of Natasha's stunned voice. Before Tony can grab him, Steve darts past and throws himself at Natasha. Surprised, she still catches him, swinging him up onto her hip, little head sandwiched under her chin.

Tony can see that Steve is shaking and it makes rage boil up on his insides. He turns back to Amy, straightening up and snapping down the faceplate for extra intimidation factor. "Alright," he says. "Explain now."

"Not here," says Bruce. His neck is showing signs of green and his eyes are burning as he stares at the girl. "We should keep this contained."

Tony's pretty sure it's too late for that. The patrons who didn't run are all watching them now, eyes wide and he's sure this will be all over the web before they take more than three steps. He nods anyway, grabs Amy and Karen's arms, and drags them out of the main area of the restaurant and back into one of the smaller dining rooms.

"Alright," Natasha demands once the door is closed. "What did you do to him?"

"It's a spell," says Amy. She looks miserable. "It turns whoever it hits into a child. There's no way to reverse it early. You'll just have to wait it out."

The only reason the girl lives past that last sentence is because Tony's pretty sure none of them quite buy it at first. It's not until the silence has stretched into something truly uncomfortable does it dawns on them that she's not joking. They really will have to wait.

"Two months?" says Steve. He sounds remarkably calm, eyes big as he looks at Amy. "Are you sure?"

She nods. "I tried it on my cat when I was seven," she says, apologetically. "It turned her back into a kitten for 60 days exactly."

"You did this to a cat?" says Clint. He still hasn't put away his gun and fingers the trigger like he's thinking of shooting someone just because.

"I wanted her to be a kitten again," Amy shrugs and Tony's had enough.

"Sooooo, their useless," he says to his team, ignoring the indignant 'heys' this produces, "Lets get Steve-o, here, back to the tower before the press descend. We can figure out what to do there."

There are nods all around. Bruce had the foresight to grab Steve's leather jacket, jeans, and boots on the way out of the dining room. The jacket is wrapped around Steve's shoulders; the jeans and boots shoved in Tony's briefcase (he was supposed to have a meeting after brunch but that's going to have to be rescheduled). Happy pulls the car around to the back and they leave.

But not until Natasha gives the two witches a warning that makes Tony very, very glad that he's got a suit of metal between him and Natasha's fists. So are two witches who will not be practicing magic of any sort of a very, very long time.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hi all! I probably should have mentioned on the first chapter, but spoilers for everything through Cap 2: Winter Solider. I won't mention too, too much, but this will put the story in the proper context :) Again, I own nothing but the laptop these words were typed on. Hope you enjoy! **

Steve was angry. And confused. And maybe, most of all, cold. The journey back to Avenger Tower had been relatively quiet. Or it had seemed that way to Steve who was still trying to digest the fact that he was once again a very small, very young child. He'd sat huddled within his jacket on Natasha's lap, mind a whirly-gig of thoughts and emotions.

He remembered everything. Or at least he was pretty sure he did. So when Tony called him kiddo and tried to ruffle his hair he'd gotten an earful. Which left Steve feeling like the worlds biggest heel once he'd run out of words. And breath. There was a tightness in his chest and a shakiness in his limbs that had been absent since the serum.

He was not happy to have them back.

Now he sat on the couch, still wrapped in his jacket, watching as the 'grown-ups' talked quietly across the room. They might have thought he couldn't hear, but Steve's hearing had always been good. Even with his nose leaking and his throat a nightmare of tight, achiness, he was still Steve Rogers. He wasn't nearly as breakable as they seemed to think.

"What are we going to do?" Tony glances at Steve. There's real worry in his eye, which makes Steve feel a little worse for yelling at the man.

"I don't think we can do anything," says Bruce. "You heard them. The spell will wear off. We just have to wait it out."

"And what if someone comes after him? Or aliens attack and we need Captain America?"

"It's sixty days," says Natasha. "Not sixty years. We'll figure it out." She doesn't look nearly as assured as her words make her sound.

Steve's chest tightens further. Like this he's a liability, not an asset. They all know it. The spiral of self-pity his brain is taking comes to a halt as Pepper hurries from the elevator, loaded down with bags from various department stores.

Tony must have called her from the car because instead of asking who he is, she puts down the bags and sinks down on the couch next to him, her hand coming up to rest on his back.

"How you doing, Steve?" she asks quietly. "I got you some things if you'd like to change."

He heart swells. He doesn't think he's ever been as happy to see someone as he is to see Pepper Potts. He smiles at her. "This jacket _is_ a bit big."

"Then lets get you out of it." She nods at Tony and the other, and escorts him down the hall to his room, spreading the contents of the bags on his bed. There are t-shirts and button-downs, jeans and khakis, pajamas, underwear, socks and even shoes. He selects a blue long-sleeve shirt with a big star on the front and the jeans and retreats to the bathroom. He might now be six, but no way is he changing in front of a dame.

To his surprise everything fits and he shuffles back out, inexplicitly exhausted. Pepper must see it in his face for she asks him if he wants to take a nap. A nap sounds excellent, but his stomach growls reminding him that he never actually got any lunch.

Besides, he really should talk with the team and reassure them. "I need to talk with the others first," he says, pulling on a pair of sneakers. They're so tiny it's shocking.

Pepper's lips quirk up in bemusement, but she doesn't argue with him, simply following as he heads back to the main room. Everyone is still there and Steve could swear Bruce smiles at the sight of him.

"Well, look at you, Rogers," says Natasha dryly. "Still going for the all-American look."

Steve's grown used to Natasha over the years, especially in the last couple of months since their take down of SHIELD and lets the teasing comment by. He wishes they weren't all standing, as it cranes his neck something awful. Before he can thoroughly think it through, he puts his arms up. Natasha looks surprised for a moment and then scoops him, placing him on her hip. This close her soft hair brushes against his face and he panics for a moment about where to put his hands, before fastening them on her shoulders.

Fighting the blush that threatens to creep over his face, he looks at the team. "I heard you guys talking. And I'm okay. Really," he insists when the doubtful expressions on their faces don't ease. "I can still help plan battles if it comes to that, but things have been quiet since Nat and I took down that last Hydra cell. There's no other threats that we know of on the horizon. And if something comes up, I'm sure you can handle it."

He's more than sure actually. Ever since waking in this new century he's been feeling more than a little superfluous. Next to Thor, Iron-Man, and the Hulk Steve's strength is nothing; Hawkeye makes his marksmanship look positively terrible; and Natasha can take down grown men twice her size without blinking. They might function better together as a team with him giving orders, but half the time when it comes down to following Steve's plan or their gut, their gut wins out much more than Steve is comfortable with.

"Maybe," says Natasha now. "But it won't be the same without you."

That damn blush is back and from the way Tony chortles, Steve knows this time he hadn't been able to hide it.

This, he thinks with a sigh as Natasha carries him into the kitchen, is going to be a long sixty days.


	3. Chapter 3

**_A/N: As the last chapter wasn't that long, I figured I'd post the next one as well. Please excuse any errors. It's just me behind the wheel on this :) _**

_God_, Natasha thinks, _it's almost heartbreaking how small Steve is_. Instead of woofing down the sandwich Pepper makes for him, he takes small, careful little bites, big blue eyes constantly scanning the room. Pepper shooed the boys away, telling them firmly that they had better things to do than watch Steve eat.

Tony surprisingly hadn't objected. Instead he'd grabbed Bruce and Clint, dragging them towards the elevator saying he had something in the lab to show them. Natasha's fairly sure this is a lie, but the relieved expression on Steve's face shows that Pepper made the right call.

"Nat?" Steve puts the half eaten sandwich down, the expression on his face much too serious for one so young. "Do you think we'll ever find Bucky?"

It's not the question she expected. She sees Pepper's back freeze, before she manages to close the refrigerator door and turn around, her face carefully neutral.

"I'm sure you will," lies Natasha. Steve and Sam spent nearly a month straight searching for Bucky before having to return to battle Hydra. As far as she knows, they've had no leads, no solid clues as to where the man has gone.

"Can we go looking for him now?" Steve asks, a jaw cracking yawn hitting him halfway through the sentence. He rubs restlessly at one eye and sinks lower in his seat.

_Any lower and his face will meld with that sandwich,_ Natasha thinks.

"Not until you're big again." Coming to a decision, Natasha scoops Steve up. He makes a startled noise of complaint before relaxing into her with a sigh as she carries him down the hall to his room. This unfettered trust tells her more than anything that while Cap might have all his memories something more than his body has regressed.

"I miss him." The words are said so softly Natasha almost misses them. They make her heart clench. There's so much sadness in them.

Gently she tucks him in, patting down the covers with a confidence she doesn't feel. "You liked him a lot didn't you?"

"He was my best friend." The heartbreak in his eyes, in his voice, is something Natasha's fairly sure the adult Steve would never have let her seen. "He was always there for me and I," his breath hitched. "I let him down. I let him be experimented on and tortured and turned into-into that monster." Neither of them are prepared for the tears. They roll down Steve's cheeks despite the way his face contorts and how he presses his fingers to his eyes to deny them exit.

"Hey," Natasha grabs Steve's hands, pulling them away from his face. "Nothing that happened to Bucky is your fault. None of it. You did everything you could on that train. No one blames you."

"Then why did he try and kill me?" Steve's mouth twists in sheer, childish misery.

"You know the answer to that, Steve," Natasha says. "They brainwashed him. It wasn't Bucky trying to kill you."

Something of the adult Steve reasserts itself at that. He takes a shaky breath and nods. "I know," he whispers. "But it's hard."

Natasha's lips quirk. "It always is when friends try and kill you. Now," she puts some authority into her voice. "You need to sleep. Bucky will be there to look for when you wake up."

A ghost of a smile whispers across Steve's face. "You know," he mumbles as his eyes drift closed. "You wouldn't make a bad mom. You got the voice down and everything."

Eyes shut, Steve misses the horrified look that crosses Natasha's face. If there something the Black Widow is not, it's motherly. With a final look at Steve, she exits, muttering some rather interesting things in Russian under her breath.

On the bed, Steve smiles and turns over as he slips asleep, thinking as he does that someone dost protest too much.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: Hi All, for those who've reviewed, thanks so much and I'm glad you're enjoying it. This story started out with no clear idea beyond the fact that I love stories about a de-aged Steve and decided to write one, so where this is going I have no clue. That said, I've rewatched the trailer for the new Avengers movie one to many times and just had to include Ultron in here somewhere. Fair warning though, all I know about Ultron is from the Wikipedia page for the movie so any mistakes are on me! ~ m**_

The next week is boring beyond belief. Steve's a bit fuzzy on what exactly he enjoyed doing as a six year old, but none of the activities he enjoys as an almost thirty year old man are things he can do now.

Working out leaves him winded and panting and so red that when Pepper catches him she checks him for a fever and very nearly grounds him for scaring her. He's not allowed out of the tower and is too little anyway to ride the new bike Tony got him after he lost the old one during the SHIELD fiasco. The only things left for him to do are draw and read.

Which is fine—at first. But Steve's never been good with forced inactivity and by day six he's about ready to order Jarvis to let him down the elevator so he can at least take a walk.

But even Steve knows that that is a ridiculously dangerous idea. Things might have been better if both Natasha and Clint hadn't been called away by Maria to do something that none of the 'adult's feels inclined to share with him. All attempts to guilt Nat into telling him before they left had failed and he was a little too in awe of Pepper to try wheedling the information from her.

Tony and Bruce, on the other hand, never leave the tower. They've been downstairs in Tony's lab all week working on his new artificial intelligence system; something Tony is naming Ultron, for whatever reason. And when they're out of the lab it's only because Pepper has forcibly locked them out and ordered them to either sleep, eat, or shower. Not necessarily in that order.

Steve tries peeking in on what they were doing, but there's something about this new AI, unlike Jarvis, that leaves Steve deeply unnerved. It's much too…aware of everything. Likes there's an actual thinking brain somewhere behind the computer façade. In all honestly, it's a bit too like Zola's final incarnation for Steve's comfort so he quickly abandons any attempt to hang with Tony and Bruce while they're obsessing over Ultron.

Which leaves Steve with one option. Pepper mentions at dinner that she's leaving for Washington D.C. in the morning to handle some business at the Stark office there. She's been Steve's only constant source of human contact and the thought of her leaving sends actual fear through him.

Not that he'd ever admit it, but Steve's holding it together by pure willpower at this point. It would be easier, honestly, if he didn't remember his real age, his real role. If he could pretend, even for an instant that he's really six. Maybe then he could relax.

As it is, even when drawing, he more often than not ends up coming up with detailed plans to locate Bucky or courses to take in the middle of pitched battle if they find themselves fighting in scenarios ranging from the middle of downtown D.C. to a small island in the Pacific. He's obsessing he knows, and that's why when Pepper says, eyes full of sympathy (and not a little guilt), that she's planning to be gone for the weekend, he asks to go with her.

He sees her surprise and gives her his best pleading look. "I won't get in your way," he says. "There's an exhibit at the National Portrait Gallery I'd like to see."

This isn't a total lie. There really is an exhibit Steve wouldn't mind seeing. That's just not his only reason for wanting to go. Pepper caves surprisingly easily and says that he can come. And that Happy will come too to show him around.

He doesn't remind Pepper that he lived in DC for almost a year. He wouldn't let a six-year-old wander around a major metropolitan area alone either. Not even in a national museum.

"Then it's settled," she says. "I'll tell Tony in the morning."

"You could not tell him," says Steve letting a mischievous smile slide onto his face. "See how long it takes him and Bruce to realize we're gone."

Pepper widens her eyes in mock surprise. "Why, Steve, that might be the most Tony thing you've ever suggested."

When Tony stumbles blurrily into the dining room a few minutes later, he has no idea why both Pepper and Steve burst into laughter at the sight of him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

DC is shockingly normal. SHIELD and the downed helecarriers in the Potomac no longer dominate the front page. Or if it does, Pepper doesn't allow Steve near enough to see. There's no need to worry him about things he cannot change.

She watches as he runs down the sidewalk in front of her and Happy, tiny arms banking left and right as he pretends to be an airplane. She doesn't think Steve realizes it, but the flashes of the child he once, peeking through the normal, calm, Captain America shell, endear him to her more than they probably should. Those flashes give her hope. Hope that this experience might be a good thing in the long run.

As does the wide smile he sends her way when she calls out to ask him if he'd like a churro.

"Yes, please!" he pipes, charging back to join them. His blond hair glows in the sunlight even as he coughs and he starts to swipes a sleeve under his nose. Happy clears his throat and hands him a Kleenex. A startled blush gives Steve's face a dose of color and he takes it with an abashed little grin.

It's adorable and has the other women in line makes little 'aw' noises which make Steve blush even more and attempt to hide himself behind Pepper. Chuckling, she hands him the churro, happy when he digs in with gusto. He hadn't eaten much for breakfast, and lunch had consisted of bagged sandwiches that none of them liked much. But it had been that or nothing as there hadn't been time between leaving and the first of her meetings to stop for something more.

"So, little man," says Happy as they start walking again, the long reflecting pool glimmering off to their right. "You glad to be back in DC?"

Happy and Pepper miss how Steve's nose scrunches up at being called 'little man' and he's smiling slightly when he twists up to answer, not wanting either of them to know how much that bothers him.

"Kinda," he says, thoughtfully. "It looks better now. Less things on fire."

The crash of the helecarriers had mostly damaged themselves and SHIELD HQ. But enough burning bits had rained down on DC to chare the famous cherry blossoms trees and nearly cause a mass panic.

"And for that, we're all grateful," says Pepper. "Want to go sit on Lincoln's lap?"

She waggles her eyebrow in a dead-on impersonation of Tony that makes Steve giggle. He's pretty sure people aren't allowed to do that, but he nods anyway, finishes the last of the churro and charges off across the grass.

Laughter follows him; Happy calling out that those young legs won't save him from a severe tickling, when he runs straight into someone. Steve yelps, falling back, only to find a hand fisting around the front of his t-shirt.

"Watch it," the man growls.

Every single cell in Steve's body goes numb. He knows that voice. But it can't be…

Apparently it is. Because when Steve looks up, it's Bucky's angry face that stares down at him.

Bucky looks horrible, cheeks sunken and covered with stubble, hair greasy under a baseball cap that's seen better decades. The smell of stale sweat and cigarettes wash over Steve, but he's too busy staring to really take it in.

Bucky is _here_. _Alive_. After months of searching this seems highly anti-climatic to Steve. So much so he nearly doesn't register Pepper's voice as she apologizes to Bucky or Bucky's reply. He snaps out of it though when Bucky releases him and moves to walk away.

"Wait!" Steve grabs at the bottom of Bucky's jacket. His grip is weak and he's almost surprised when Bucky actually stops, red-rimmed eyes snapping down to him.

"Let go of me, kid," he says. There's no warmth in Bucky's voice. Not like when he used to call Steve 'kid'.

It hurts.

Steve doesn't let that stop him. His mind is racing. Pepper and Happy don't seem to have recognized Bucky—and Steve doesn't want them too. But he can't let Bucky simply walk away either.

"I'm sorry for running into you, mister," Steve says in his best childish voice. He lets his eyes go big and soft. "I never saw so much grass anywhere. There's nothin' like this in Brooklyn."

Bucky flinches at the mention of Brooklyn, eyes that hadn't really taken Steve in suddenly focusing on his face. Steve sees the moment when Bucky recognizes him. Sees the way his eyes widen ever so slightly and how Bucky mouths his name. Bucky glances at Pepper and then back at Steve.

"Yeah," he says, voice rough and gravely. "Brooklyn's kinda lacking in the park department. But not in little punks I guess."

"I'm really sorry," Pepper says, then. She moves to take Steve's hand. "Come on, Steve. Let's let the nice man go." There's confusion in her voice, but still no recognition. Steve doesn't fight her. He doesn't have to. There's no way Bucky's not going to follow them.

"See you!" he calls to Bucky as Pepper leads him away.

"Yeah," he thinks he hears Bucky mumble. "You can count on it."

**A/N – Ok this story seems to be growing in ways I did not expect. I love the Bucky/Steve dymanic and just couldn't resist having little Steve run into him. There will be cute fluff and angst coming up though, because no story of a baby Avenger would be complete without big helpings of both ;) And yes, the other Avengers will soon reappear. As will a healthy doze of babyStevewump! If you have a comment, concern, niggling doubt as to my sanity, feel free to leave a comment! ;) **


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 **

"Mr. Stark, if I might ask, what has become of young Steven?"

Tony looks up from the gauntlet he's tinkering with and over to the computer his new AI is running on. He and Bruce have been mapping out a way to transfer Ultron from the computer to a full on robot version of his Iron Man suit, but it's been slow going.

"What?" he asks. _Had Ultron said something about Steve? _

"Young Steven is not in the tower," there's a hunger and a longing in Ultron's voice that Tony would have found disturbing—if he'd been paying attention. Instead Ultron's words send panic coursing through Tony's veins.

"What do you mean he isn't in the tower? Jarvis! Where the hell did he go?"

"Miss Potts took him to DC with her this morning," says Jarvis, sounding ever so slightly smug. "They will be back Sunday evening."

"Why the hell didn't she mention anything?" Tony grumbles allowing his anxiety to fade.

"I believe she did, sir," now Jarvis sounds reproachful. "Your mind must have been elsewhere."

Tony scratches at his head, a tiny bit of guilt creeping in. He_ has_ been rather distracted lately. He vaguely remembers Pepper talking at him last night after she'd dragged him to bed. But he's so used to pretending to listen to Pepper that he can give all the correct responses and still not retain a word.

"Taking Steve back to DC seems like a bad idea," says Bruce quietly. He's sitting at another station, a chemistry lab set up in front of him. Bruce had stopped helping Tony on the Ultron problem two days ago in favor of working on a serum that he hopes will give him greater control over the Other Guy when he makes an appearance. He's been working on it for so many years that Tony's half-convinced he still plugs away at it only out of pure, dogged stubbornness.

"I disagree," says Ultron, voice smooth. "He has been restless. An outing will do him good."

Bruce looks over as Tony's eyebrows rise. This is news to both of them. "How the hell do you know that?" asks Tony.

"I have access to the same surveillance system that Jarvis does. I simply wished to learn more about how young children act within their environments."

"Well don't do it again. Jarvis please lock Ultron's access to all surveillance cameras not located in this lab."

"At once, sir." That's not relief in Jarvis's voice, Tony tells himself firmly. He's projecting. After all, there's nothing to fear about Ultron. Nothing at all.

* * *

><p>By the time Happy takes Steve back to the hotel, Steve's exhausted. His throat is tight, his ears ache, and his stomach isn't too happy with the cheeseburger and fries he wheedled Happy into getting for him once they'd dropped Pepper off at her next meeting.<p>

Seeing Bucky had shot a burst of adrenaline through him, which had quickly faded once he'd disappeared into the crowd. It had taken all his will power not to race after him. But he knew Bucky hadn't simply left. No, there had been enough of Bucky in that stare to tell Steve that his friend was still banging about underneath the Winter Solider façade. And Bucky would never leave Steve in the lurch.

Of course there's also the fact that Steve hasn't been able to shake the sensation of eyes watching him as Happy took him first to see the Lincoln Memorial (but not to sit it Lincoln's lap) and then into a taxi and across town to the National Portrait Gallery. He could have sworn he'd caught a glimpse of that dirty ball cap as they entered the gallery and again at the burger joint. He makes them stop to look into Toys R Us on the way back because he's afraid Bucky's lost them and wants to give him time to catch up before they return to the hotel.

Now he's cursing his little body with all his might. He'd pushed it too far today. Forgotten this bodies many, many limits. A sneeze rocks him forward, bright bands of pain tightening under his eyes and across his forehead. From his seat in the living area of the hotel suite, Happy looks up, a frown on his face.

"You doing ok, Steve?" he starts to fold up his newspaper and stand, but Steve doesn't need anyone hovering.

"I'm fine," he says, wishing his voice didn't sound so high and choked.

Happy looks anything but convinced and Steve puts some more effort into it. "Just allergies," he says, pulling the box of Kleenex closer. "All the blossoms."

"Ah," this answer seems to satisfy Happy, who nods. "I had a friend like that. Allergic to the entire season of spring. Used to say it was like having a florist shop camped in your nostrils." He stands. "I'll go get you some anti-histamines. Don't let anyone in, ok?"

Steve's touched even though he's 95% certain at this point that what's plaguing him isn't allergies. "I won't," he says, fighting not to cough, his stomach rolling.

"Good. Because Pepper is a scary lady when she gets angry."

The second the door closes behind Happy Steve darts from the bed and into the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before what feels like everything he's ever eaten comes rushing out. He heaves until he can't anymore. Arms loosing strength, he slides to the floor, head spinning.

Damn, he hasn't felt this bad since just after he'd awoken from the ice and had eaten an entire pizza in one go before he realized that if you haven't eaten for almost seventy years forcing that much food into yourself probably isn't a smart call.

Groaning, he tries to stand and only manages to slither further down. Another failed go and Steve gives up, curling into a little ball on the cold floor. It shouldn't feel as good as it does, but his face feels like it's burning and the tile feel wonderful pressed against it.

The sound of the hotel room door opening barely registers. It's not until the bathroom door is being pushed open soundlessly that Steve realizes someone else is there. Someone who isn't Happy or Pepper.

Dirty, frayed jeans and mud splattered work boots move into Steve's line of vision. Steve's too tired to be alarmed at the fact that he doesn't recognize them. He doesn't need to. He lets his eyes slip shut, "Knew you were following," he mumbles as strong arms scoop him up and carry him to the bed.

"Yeah, well," Bucky says. "I leave you alone too long and your bound to do something stupid."

"Told you I wouldn't," Steve manages to unstick his eyes long enough to take in the grim look on Bucky's face before he's placed on the bed. "Don't be mad," he says as Bucky jerks the covers up and over him, tucking him in like he's doing military corners prior to barracks inspection.

"I'm not mad," Bucky's face twists, frustration and confusion evident in every line of his tattered looking frame. "I'm confused. You know you, kid. Know your face. But I could swear it's the face of a grown man."

"I was grown," Steve mumbles into the pillow. "There were witches."

He thinks he hears Bucky laugh, but sleep comes up and drags him away by the hand before he can lift his head to find out.

**A/N - Well, here is the first real doze of h/c. It's harder to nail than I thought it'd be, but came out ok in the end I think. Thanks to everyone who has left a comment. I'm very glad you're enjoying things and hopefully will continue to do so :) **


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 **

**A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating, guys! The holiday season hit in full force for me right before Thanksgiving and is only now letting up. I'm hoping to get more writing squeezed in between now and Christmas, but apologies if there are gaps between postings. Anyway, hope you enjoy!**

Bucky watches the little boy sleep. He doesn't have much time. He'd disabled the elevator before the fat man had even left forcing him to make his way huffing and puffing down the stairs. But even a hefty man would be able to climb ten stories without too much trouble. Bucky's time is almost up if he wants to get away clean.

Though at the moment he's not sure what he wants.

He thinks through what he's managed to learn over the last few months. This boy is Steven Rogers. He'd grown up (and apparently un-grown up again) into being Captain America. He'd fought Nazis and Hydra, and Bucky had been right besides him up until the point where he'd apparently fallen from a Hydra train and died.

Except…he hadn't. Died that is. What exactly _had_ happened took him awhile to beat out of people. But fear is a handy thing. And many, many people feared the Winter Solider. This didn't bother Bucky. It should have. He knew it should have. But empathy and worrying about others opinions or thoughts or feelings meant nothing to him.

All that mattered was the opinion of one small boy.

Pulling a faded photo from his pocket he studied the two smiling figures. The boys in the picture were older than this Steve, but a fair bit younger than the age Bucky figures Captain America was before this latest debacle. They smile freely, those boys in the picture. Bucky doesn't think he's smiled like that in decades. Not that anything in the flashes of his life that he's managed to cobble together garner a smile. He's not sure who gave the picture to the museum, or whose copper-plate writing had written _Steve and James, June 1930_, on the back. All he knows is that he wants to see that smile on Steve's face again. Any version of Steve.

It hurts to let go of the picture, to tuck in underneath the little boy's hand where it's clenched around his pillow. It's like losing a piece of himself, one that he's just barely hot-glued back on. But he does it.

Because written in a sloppy, slanted scrawl underneath their names, is his cellphone number.

* * *

><p>The next couple of days blur together for Steve. He's aware enough to know that Bucky is gone, that Pepper and Happy are there again, fussing over him, but he feels no need to swim close enough to consciousness to actively participate in the discussion raging about what to do about him.<p>

He's happy to let them ply him with Jell-O and chicken n'star soup and as much 7-Up and crackers as his queasy stomach can take. On some level he knows they are back in the tower, that Tony and Bruce are there, but Tony's one contribution to getting Steve well again ends with Pepper banning him from both Steve's room and the kitchen. What Tony did remains a mystery until Steve's well enough to notice that both Tony's eyebrows are gone and several of Pepper's best pots are missing from the kitchen.

The thought of Tony cooking anything bemuses Steve, who allows himself to be ushered out of the kitchen and onto the family room couch by Natasha who arrived back that morning. Clint is already sprawled across half of it, his leg propped up on a mound of cushions.

Clint sends a smile Steve's way, amusement making his eyes dance as Natasha tucks a blanket around Steve and places a box of Kleenex, a mug of tea, and the remote all within easy reach. He wisely stays silent until Natasha leaves before leaning over to swipe the remote.

"She gave it to me," says Steve, batting him way.

"I thought they taught people to share back in the old days," says Clint, eyebrows shooting to his hairline.

Steve shoots him a grumpy scowl that's ruined somewhat by the way his lips twitch. "I'm sick," he says blowing his nose for emphasis. "That means the TV is mine, Barton."

"In your dreams, Rogers. Broken leg beats sniffles any day." Clint makes another swipe for the remote.

"I think you will find that Master Rogers has the right to the television," comes Ultron's voice from somewhere in the walls, stopping Clint cold. "Miss Natasha did leave the remote with him."

Clint doesn't miss the way Steve flinches at Ultron's voice. He doesn't blame him. Jarvis was hard enough to get used to without Tony's new robot getting in on the action. Feeling like he's being watched and found so, so lacking, Clint throws up his hands and sinks back. "I know when I'm beat," he gestures at the TV, "just, please, no My Little Pony."

Steve's brow wrinkles. "What's My Little Pony?"

"Only one of the best TV shows of the 1980s. Ultron, you can shut down now." Tony saunters into the room munching on a carrot stick. The statement and the choice of snack make Clint gape at him, but Steve gives Tony a pleased little smile.

"Pepper told you," he says.

"Yep," Tony flings himself down on the couch narrowly missing the mug of tea. "Said you were out of bed and demanding I eat something." He waves the carrot. "A Twinkie would've gone down better but she also told me _someone_ around here asked her to rid the house of unhealthy snacks."

"Vegies are better for you," Steve punctuates that statement with a harsh, deep cough.

"Yeah, well, don't think you're safe, buster," says Tony, trying to hide the wince that sound sends through him. "I've got it on good authority you're gonna be on this horse diet soon too."

"That's okay. I like carrots." Steve's voice is hoarse, but he ignores the worried glances the adults share and gets busy picking a program. He's been in bed for days and never really paid the TV much mind before that, but now it consumes his entire attention.

There's apparently a show for everything. He flips past the sports channels because its not baseball season and he doesn't care about football; he flips past the twelve million cop shows and the ten million reality ones; he gives the History Channel a wide berth and Fox News an even wider one. He doesn't need any reminders of how much has changed in the world, thank you very much. Finally colorful animation fills the screen and Steve stops flipping, eyes widening as they take in the fiery red-head racing across the screen on horseback, bow slung across her back.

It's bright and beautiful, and the girl's Scottish accent enraptures Steve. Half a scene in and Steve's off the couch and huddled as close as he can get to the screen in a cocoon of blankets and pillows. He barely notices Natasha and Bruce coming to help Clint off the couch or Pepper joining Tony with a bowl of grapes. He's so far into the adventures of Merida and her family that he fails to notice the faint crash from downstairs. But there's no ignoring the heavy bang that rattles the floor a second later. Or the fizzle and pop the lights make before everything goes dark.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 **

**A/N: Hope everyone is having a good weekend. Please enjoy this next chapter. Again, I own nothing and apologies for all spelling/grammar mistakes. :)**

"Alright, everybody stay calm."

Tony will deny it to his dying day, but his first thing he feels at hearing Steve's voice isn't relief that Steve's okay. It's relief that Captain America is here and clearly in control. That illusion shatters the next second when another powerful explosion shatters the windows leading to the deck, sending glass flying outward.

The shock of it sends Steve reeling backward into the TV and the bowl of grapes from Pepper's hands. Tony barely keeps Pepper and himself standing. Somewhere he can hear Natasha and Bruce yelling, but the sight of the creature climbing through the window blocks it out.

It's humanoid only in the way that it appears to have a head and shoulders. But its eight arms and legs are covered by leather scales and end in sharp claws. Its eyes are multi-facetted like a giant spiders and its mouth is nothing so much as a sucking maw full of spinning fangs.

Natasha shoots into the room followed closely by Bruce just as Steve darts off the other way. Natasha tries to grab him, but Steve ducks under her arm, yelling that he'll be right back over his shoulder.

"Tony! Suit up!" Natasha barks and Tony breaks out of his paralysis and grabs for his bracelets. But he's a second too slow. The thing makes it through the window and one massive arm crashes into Tony sending him flying. There's a moment of breathless anticipation and then gravity reinserts itself and Tony meets the floor hard enough to knock one bracelet lose and send whatever air his lungs retained straight out.

The thing roars and is met by an answering roar from Bruce as the Other Guy makes an appearance, shedding clothing and rational thinking in one go. The Hulk thunders towards the monster, Pepper scrambling to get out of the way. One blow from the thing, however sends Hulk through what's left of the window. Natasha's bullets do nothing but annoy it. It swings towards her, saliva dripping from its mouth and splattering its front.

Her eyes widen as it stalks forward not even bothering to duck as she fires round after round into its chest and head.

"Nat, get down," bellows Steve from behind her.

She doesn't hesitate. Just hits the deck. There's a crack and the thing screams. A high-pitched wail that digs deep into Natasha's eardrums and rattles them like castanets. There's another crack, another shriek, and the thing topples over, half its torso gone. She swivels around to see Steve—little, tiny Steve—holding the modified rocket launcher Tony developed and gave Steve as a gag gift on his birthday. It had been a gag because he'd painted a great big picture of Steve on one side and a picture of the Hydra logo being swallowed by a huge elephant on the other. How Steve's lifting it, Natasha has no idea.

The second the monster is down, the rocket launcher clatters to the floor and Steve races to Natasha's side. "Are you okay?" he asks. There's fear in his eyes even though his voice is rock steady.

At her nod he hurries over to Tony and Pepper, just as the lights flicker back on and Clint propels himself into the room, broken leg dragging behind him, bow out and ready. "What the hell?" he's breathing hard, eyes widening as he takes in the scene.

"No idea," Natasha hooks a foot underneath the creature's head, swiveling it slightly. There's no trace of life left in its black eyes. She doesn't recognize it. Has no idea why it attacked.

Or if it's alone.

She looks over to find Pepper fussing over Steve. The woman's red-blond hair whips about in the wind coming through the broken windows and goose bumps are visible all over Steve and Pepper's arms.

Tony is on his feet, rubbing at his chest. He edges close enough to the window to look down. "No sign of the green one," he says. "Hopefully Banner's in control and on his way back here."

The sound of the elevator dinging reveals the man in question, soaked to the bone and holding pieces of his ripped clothing around his middle with one hand and a gun in the other. He barrels out, faltering when he sees that the monster's dead. Natasha wonders where he got the gun, but Bruce ignores her, grabbing up one of the blankets and handing it to Pepper who quickly wraps it around Steve.

"Probably best to put him to bed," Bruce says, face pinched. Pepper nods and swings Steve up on her hip. The little boy is having none of it this, however.

"Wait, no!" Steve squirms against Pepper's hold. "We don't know if that's the last of them! We need to do a perimeter sweep and check for civilian—" a giant sneeze snaps the word off, propelling Steve's head forward. His next attempt at speech ends just as badly as a coughing fit chokes him off.

Natasha rushes to get some water while Pepper rubs at Steve's back, trying to sooth him even as his face reddens and his fists clutch at her as he struggles to regain control of his breathing. He doesn't notice when Natasha returns with the glass and flinches badly when she maneuvers the glass in front of him and softly tells him to drink.

The look he sends her way is miserable and embarrassed, but she's glad when instead of insisting he can hold the glass himself, Steve lets her hold it to his lips. The first sip makes him splutter, but the rest goes down smoothly, the coughing subsiding, leaving Steve limp and battered in Pepper's arms.

"Bedtime, I think," Pepper says softly. This time Steve doesn't fight her, just lets himself be carried off.

Tony clears his throat bringing Natasha's attention back to him. He holds out a glass of Scotch, which she gladly swipes and downs in one go. The fiery path it burns feels good. The discussion that follows it less so.

Bruce goes off to get dressed and Tony and Natasha help Clint downstairs and into Tony's lab.

"Jarvis," Tony says. "Tell me how that thing got in the building."

"I do not know, sir," came Jarvis' calm British voice. "My systems were cut off for approximately five minutes. I did not see the creature approach or its subsequence attack. Maintenance however has been notified and will be up shortly to clear away the body and repair the damage to the window."

"How the hell did it cut the system?" Tony's fists clench. Part of him wishes Jarvis was a physical being so he could strangle him for sounding so calm when Tony feels anything but.

"It would appear someone hacked into the mainframe and set a timed override, sir. It was only meant to cut the power for a set period of time."

"But why?" asks Natasha. "And how? That thing didn't look smart enough to tie its shoes let alone hack into your system."

"It didn't," Tony turns to see Bruce stride into the room. "Turn on the news, Tony."

Alarm bells start ringing in his head. Bruce looks grim. Very, very grim. "Jarvis."

"On it, sir." The wall opposite the group came to life, CNN reporter Anderson Cooper popping onto the screen mid-broadcast.

"Again," Cooper is saying. "Reports are coming in from all parts of Manhattan of attacks by giant spider-like monsters." The man has an incredulous look on his face, like the words he's saying haven't quite caught up with his brain. "Unlike the alien attacks of two years ago, these things appear to have specific targets in mind: the heroes of this city. Several police precincts were attacked, as was the Baxter Building, home of the group known as the Fantastic Four. We also have reports coming in that Spider Man was targeted though that has not been confirmed. And there have been calls made of the Hulk appearing outside of Avenger Towers minutes after it went dark, but we have received no word on the fate of the Avengers themselves."

"Damn," Clint murmurs. The slight tightening of his jaw tells Natasha more than he probably thinks it does on how freaked out the news has made him. If the looks on Tony and Bruce's faces say anything, they are all freaked out.

"Someone must be controlling them," she says.

Tony pours himself another shot and stares at Natasha over the rim of the glass. "One guess as to who," he says, lifting his eyebrows meaningfully.

"Hydra." Clint flinches slightly at the word, but Natasha shakes her head. "They're on the run," she argues. "We've taken out at least four Hydra bases since Steve and I exposed them. They don't have resources for this type of attack. And if they did Coulson would have alerted us by now."

She'd known almost from the beginning that Coulson had survived the attack on New York. The others had all found out after SHIELD came down. The betrayed look on Steve's face haunted Natasha's dreams for weeks afterward. It had felt like a betrayal of his newly gotten trust and even if he never said so she knows that he saw it as further evidence of SHIELD's—and to an extent her own—untrustability.

"Maybe not," Bruce says. "We have no idea how strong Hydra was to start with. If they have half the resources SHIELD had, then they would still be more than strong enough to launch this type of offensive."

"That doesn't explain how half-assed it was," Clint fiddles with a piece of metal about three inches square lying on the table in front of him. "No way Hydra would only send one monster a piece. Not against all of us."

"I must concur with Mr. Barton." Ultron's workstation, for lack of a better term, chooses that moment to light up the pixelated yellow happy face that Tony made the AI's main interface. It stares out at them from its black, button eyes, the curve representing its mouth drawn into a frown. "An army general does not send a weak force against the enemies top fighters. I believe that this might be what is termed a ruse."

A ruse…

Natasha doesn't like it but there's more than a fair possibility that Ultron is right. For all that the creature had surprise and might on its side, it had still been sent up against a group of people that had almost single handedly destroyed an alien army. Sending one against Spider Man or the police made sense. Sending only one against them? Or against the Fantastic Four?

That sounded like a distraction.

"Jarvis," Natasha turns to the still running news channel. "Search for any reports of break-ins within the last hour. Specifically of big targets."

"What are you thinking?" asks Clint as Jarvis begins running the search.

"Tell you in a minute," Natasha doesn't turn away from the screen. A selection of images is now flashing across it. Documents and what look like security feeds popping up and fading away too quickly to take in.

"There have been no robberies reported yet to the Metropolitan Police," says Jarvis after a moment. "But there is evidence of a power outage at 111 Capital Ave that momentarily disabled their alarm and security systems."

"111 Capital," that bad feeling in Natasha's gut worsens. She knows now what the person who sent the spider-monsters was after. And has a pretty damn good guess as to who it was. "Can you see if the vault there was breached?"

"Of course, ma'am." A security feed came up showing a long, narrow hallway. A door halfway down gaped open, a man standing in the entrance. He's smiling up at the camera, face relaxed and easy even as another man inside the room hands him a glowing cube.

Tony stood. "Tell me that's not what I think it is."

"It's not," says Natasha. "It's worse."

"What can be worse than the Tesseract?" Tony gapes at Natasha who gives him a twisted smile.

"A second one."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 **

**_A/N: Sorry all for the lag in updates. The holiday season is playing havoc with writing time. Hope you enjoy! _**

_A second one._

The words rattle around in Tony's brain making him feel sick. How the hell can there be another one of those things? The first one had let Loki rip holes in space and bring the Chitauri down on their heads. Hydra had used it to fuel weapons that could disintegrate a person. One was dangerous.

Two would be world ending.

"They're called the Infinity Stones." Natasha doesn't look like she relishes the attention being paid to her by the three men in the room. "According to legend there are six of them, each with unique abilities. If they are reunited…"

She trails off. Tony doesn't need to hear more. Six of them…it's almost overwhelming. "Where are they?" he somehow manages to ask.

"The Tesseract is with Odin. Loki's scepter (I know, I know, Clint) is held in a SHIELD facility somewhere—and before you ask, no I don't know where. Three of them haven't been seen on Earth, but that one," she gestures at the screen, which has paused on the image of the man's smiling face, "is the Orb. We're not quite sure how it works, but it can't be touched or used directly without causing immediate death."

"And now it's in the hands of," Tony glares at the screen, "some idiot with a goatee."

Natasha kindly doesn't point out that the idiot isn't the only one with a goatee.

"Not just any idiot," says Clint. He's pale, sweat beading his brow. "That's Doctor Strange."

"Excuse me?" Tony's not sure he's heard correctly. "Doctor _what_?"

"His name's Stephen Vincent Strange. He's a magician and one of the most f-upped men you'll ever meet."

"A magician? Top hats, rabbits, that kind of magician?"

"This isn't a joke, Stark." Clint's on his feet, hands gripping the table like it's Tony's throat he'd rather be gripping. "The man has enough magic at his fingertips to make Loki look like an amateur. If he's got one of those stones there's no telling what he plans to do with it."

"We don't think he's evil though," Natasha feels compelled to add. "SHIELD's never been able to figure out his motives so he's strictly on the do not trust list, but he's never actually done anything but annoy us."

"Which means we can probably trust him," Steve's voice startles Tony badly. He's standing in the doorway in Batman footy pajamas. His face is flushed with fever and his hair is damp with sweat. But there's a light in Steve's eyes that has been missing for weeks, an excitement underneath the fatigue that would worry Tony if he saw it in anyone else's eyes. It's a look that just screams 'I'm about to make trouble.'

"Rogers," Natasha says with gentle reproach. "You should be in bed. Where's Pepper?"

"She's supervising the clean up." Steve crawls up on the stool next to Clint, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "How do we get in touch with him to figure out what his motive is?" he asks, pointing to the screen.

None of the adults want to answer. It rankles them all (Tony especially) that such a small person can sound so authoritative and in charge. So mature. Looking at him you can practically see the man he'll grow into. And it frightens Tony more than a little to think that they're about to let a six year old lead them. He opens his mouth to order Steve back to bed, but Ultron speaks before he can.

"It would appear that Dr. Stephan Strange has actually sent a communiqué to you Master Steven." The screen built into the workstation Steve's sitting at projects an email message in the air. "Shall I read it to you?"

"I've got it," says Steve. His eyes flicker over the message, taking it in quickly. It takes a moment for the words to make sense, but when they do, Steve can't help but laugh. "Looks like you were right, Natasha. Apparently, Dr. Strange wants to help us."

"Help us?" Clint says flatly. "That maniac wants to help us so he sent a giant spider demon after us?"

"Apparently he was testing us." Steve's nose crinkles, an expression that Tony can't help but think is adorable, even as he wants to shoot himself for having that thought. "He thought that the Orb needed to be in better hands and wants to let us know that he is willing to share responsibility for the safety of the Orb as long as we do not involve SHIELD. Or the U.S. government."

Steve's not sure how he feels about this Dr. Strange. His methods are…strange to say the least. But there's something in the way the man writes, the assuredness of it, that Steve approves us. He'd forgotten about Loki's scepter in all the chaos and the thought that it's in some unknown SHIELD office makes shivers claw up his back. Any trust he had for SHIELD died a hard death months ago. It does worry him, though, about that he's so willing to trust a stranger over what remains of SHIELD, but he can't shake the feeling that he's right. If he'd listened to his instincts a year ago, he can't help feeling, Hydra wouldn't have been allowed to get so far. But he'd put his trust in what Peggy and Howard built. He isn't going to make that mistake twice.

There's a phone number at the bottom of the missive and without thinking he asks Ultron to dial it. Clint splutters and Tony and Natasha open their mouths to protest, but Strange is already answering, his voice melodic and rough at the same time.

"Mister Rogers," he says. "Thank you for getting back to me so swiftly."

"You can thank me in a minute," Steve makes his voice as stern as he can. "I'm willing to trust that you're on the up and up, Doctor, but I don't like games. If we're going to work together than I have to know what you intend to do with the Orb and that you've called off all of your pets."

Silence fills the line. "My apologies, Mister Rogers," Strange says after a moment, "but your voice…"

"I was turned into a six year old by a witch two weeks ago. It'll wear off."

"Ah, I see. I applaud you're continued dedication to your duties, but tell me. Who defeated my spidrill?"

"That the huge spider thing? I shot it. I hope you didn't let those things hurt anyone."

"Of course not." Strange sounds affronted. "They were meant to see who among the cities protectors should be worthy of helping me keep the Orb safe. All participants were only mildly hurt."

"Anyone else manage to kill one?" Steve asks out of honest curiosity.

"I believe Mr. Storm managed to kill the one I sent after the Thing, but he destroyed several buildings doing it, which I had not anticipated."

The names mean nothing to Steve. He's gotten the impression from Tony and Natasha that there are other superheroes hanging around New York, but he's never felt the least bit of interest in meeting any of them. He hopes this Mr. Storm wasn't too badly hurt and that whatever a 'Thing' is that it is okay, but he also hopes that Dr. Strange isn't about to suggest that they invite them in to help protest the Orb. The less people involved the better.

"Things rarely go to plan when monsters are involved," he says wryly. "Where are you now? I think we should meet."

"I'm so glad you agree," says Strange. "Because I'm in your lobby as we speak."

**A/N: Please excuse me if Doctor Strange is completely out of character. I wanted to bring in someone else involved with the Infinity stones, but not having read any of the comics I had to go off Wikipedia and the Marvel Wiki for my information. I don't know enough about what happens in the comics to hew closely to them so whatever he does is all in service of the storyline (and yes, there is a story line. Even though it wasn't the one I originally sat down to write ;) ) Hopefully you'll all enjoy the ride! And please review in the spirit moves ya. **


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 **

**A/N: Hope everyone had a good holiday and enjoyed lots of pumpkin pie (if that is your thing!).**

* * *

><p>Doctor Strange is everything Steve images a magician would look like. From his goatee to his black coat that looks more like a cape than a coat, the man screams magician. He carries himself with supreme confidence, flicking invisible dirt off his sleeves as he exits the elevator and enters the lab.<p>

Bruce and Tony had gone down to collect him. Both look faintly stunned when they return, but whether it's because of the dismissive way the man walks or the way he ignores everyone but Steve is any ones guess.

"Mister Rogers," Strange bows low before holding his hand out. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

_It is?_ Confusion lances through Steve, but he takes Strange's hand and shakes it firmly. Or as firmly as he can when every muscle aches with exhaustion. He really should be in bed. Stifling a sigh, Steve summons up a smile. "Can't say the same," he says. "But thanks for coming."

"Of course." Strange releases his hand with a faint grimace and pulls a handkerchief from a pocket, wiping his hands without even trying to disguise the fact that he found touching Steve's clammy hand unpleasant. His eyebrows 'v' downward as he studies Steve. He looks like he's reconsidering singling out Steve as the one in charge.

Steve doesn't give him a chance to think too long. "Mind telling us what this is all about?" he asks.

Strange studies Steve a moment longer before finally coming to a decision, his brow uncreasing. Ignoring the way Clint leans away from him, he pulls a silver filigreed ball from his pocket and hands it over. It's lighter than it looks, the metal smooth even with its rough looking texture.

There's nothing extraordinary about it at all. And that puzzles Steve. He frowns up at Strange. "This is it?"

"Indeed. That, my young friend, contains the Power Stone; one of six infinity stones crafted at the dawn of time. You are currently holding an object with the ability to amplify any power—strength, stamina, magic—to untold heights."

The cold fever sweat blanketing Steve gets an unneeded dash of heat. He fights not to throw the Orb away from him; to not attempt to smash it using one of Tony's Iron Man gloves. He thinks of what the Red Skull managed to achieve with the Tesseract, of what Loki did with his staff. Having even one more object in the world like those is bad; thinking that there are potentially three others makes Steve want to destroy the ones they've found before they lose control of them.

Or before someone comes looking for them that is stronger than all the Avengers combined.

"Is there any way to destroy it?" Even as he asks, Steve knows the answer.

"I'm afraid not," says Strange. "There are ways to hide it, but attempting to destroy it could potentially wipe out the universe as we know it. Which I believe we are all keen to avoid."

"The keenest," mumbles Tony. He's eying Doctor Strange like he's half expecting the man to sprout horns and a tail. Before Steve can stop himself he giggles; honest to goodness giggles. The sound makes Natasha look mushy for a half-second before she smooth's her face out. Tony, Bruce and Clint on the other hand look slightly horrified and Steve's face heats up.

_It's not like I can help it,_ he thinks. _I'm six years old!_

The only one not visibly phased by Steve's giggling is Doctor Strange. He watches Steve, waiting for his response. Under the weight of his gaze, Steve's spine straightens and he makes sure to keep direct eye contact. Just because he looks like a child doesn't mean he is one.

"Can _you_ hide it?" he asks.

"If I could do so on my own I would not have bothered bringing it here. To hide it requires more power than I currently possess."

"Then why not use the Stone to hide itself?" Natasha sounds genuinely curious, but Strange's jaw tightens and Steve can practically reach out and touch the waves of angry frustration that roll off Strange at Natasha's question.

"Only a being of immense strength can survive contact with the stone. Anyone else who attempts to touch it would be instantly vaporized."

"Like what happened to Schmidt." Steve nods. That makes sense. "But not being able to touch it didn't stop him from using it."

"Yes," agrees Strange, "he built machines and tools to wield it, but the Power Stone is quite different. So far all attempts to harness its power by a human, even indirectly, have led to the immediate death of the wielder. Only the Orb has been able to constrain it."

"Then there's nothing to worry about," says Tony, crossing his arms across his chest.

"On the contrary, there is everything to worry about. I have it on very good authority that the being known as Thanos has discovered the location of the stone. If he were to find it, then there is every possibility that he would be able to wield it."

"Why? What's so special about him?"

It's the question Steve is wondering himself and from the way Strange nods slightly he has obviously been waiting for it.

"Thanos is an Eternal One. He and his brethren are nigh on indestructible as it is. If he is allowed to put together the six infinity stones he will be able to remake the world as he sees fit."

"Which is bad, I take it?" asks Ultron.

The bland curiosity in Ultron's voice curdles Steve's stomach a bit, though for the life of him he can't figure out why. Jarvis doesn't bother him. Steve has actually come to quite like hearing Jarvis' voice. He can't say the same for Ultron.

"Who is this?" asks Strange, eyes narrowing as they glance around the room seeking the source of the voice.

"It's one of Tony's AI's," Steve points to the monitor in the corner with the yellow happy face.

Strange's eyebrows shoot upward and he doesn't say anything for a moment. Steve can't tell if he's confused by the concept of an AI or if it's the unsmiling happy face that is giving him trouble.

"Fascinating," Strange manages after a moment. "But, yes. If Thanos is allowed to control even one stone the effects would be catastrophic. Which is why I came to you." He turns back to Steve. "None of my sources have been able to locate Loki's staff—which means Thanos most likely will be unable to locate it either—but we know the Tesseract is with Thor in Asgard. We need to go there and warn them. Then take the Tesseract and the Orb and place them somewhere no one can find them."

"And we should trust you why?" Clint's body language is tense, on edge. Steve doesn't know what Strange did to him to elicit this type of reaction, but he can feel doubt beginning to chip away at his certainty that they can trust Doctor Strange.

If the looks on the other Avenger's faces are anything to go by, they're doubting it too.

Steve feels his jaw begin to set. This isn't a situation where he can second guess himself. When Tony and Bruce had forced him to question Fury's motives back during the battle with Loki, the only reason he'd been so bull-headed about it was because Tony had ticked him off. The man had been abrasive from the start and Steve hadn't wanted to back down and admit he might be wrong.

He can feel a bit of that same desire now. No one likes to be wrong. Especially when they're less than four feet tall. Strange watches Steve and he gets the feeling that the man can read every emotion Steve is feeling. Needing time to think, Steve focuses on the Orb in his hand, fingers running over the grooves, testing them out.

If he concentrates he thinks he can detect the slightest sensation of heat from the Orb, leaking out from what looks like a seam. He hadn't noticed it before, but now that he has, he can't take his eyes from it. Dimly he hears Strange arguing with Clint and Tony, their voices running over one another as Strange attempts to explain his plan and Clint tries to tear it down with Tony questioning everything Strange says.

His pinky fits perfectly in the seam and without thinking Steve slots his fingers into the seam and _tugs_. Purple light floods his vision as the Orb splits it half revealing a glowing stone that looks like it would fit right in the palm of his hand…

It's so pretty. Unlike the Tesseract's harsh blue glow, the Power Stone's a delicate purple, the light pulsing invitingly up at Steve. _There's no harm in touching it, surely_, Steve thinks. Somewhere, buried deep, a little voice tries to object. But it's a fly in the midst of a hurricane.

_Just for a second_, Steve thinks.

"Hey, what are you…" Steve thinks he hears Tony say. And then his fingers close around the stone and the entire world goes up in flames.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Apparently I like writing 'in charge' Steve more than 'helpless' Steve lol. I just have a feeling that even as a kid Steve never backed down from a fight, so why should he now? ;P It should be obvious by now, but yes, I'm borrowing from 'Guardians of the Galaxy" for this. And I guess technically Natasha should have said the Orb was the third infinity stone they'd come into contact with, so oops! Hopefully that didn't bug people too much in the last chapter. Anyway, see you next update! **


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11 **

**A/N: Again, I own nothing. And any and all typos are on me. Hope everyone had a wonderful New Years and happy reading!**

* * *

><p>This Doctor Strange dude is giving Tony a headache. Why he thinks he can come in here and order them around Tony has no clue. He has even less of a clue as to why Steve seems to be listening to the man.<p>

Though, Tony glances at Steve, he seems pretty into that ball. Too into it…fear shoots straight through Tony, turning his guts to ice-water as he realizes that Steve's fingers are in the perfect position to pull the dang thing open.

"Steve!" he yells just as the little boy gives the Orb a twist and purple fire engulfs him. It happens so fast there's no time to move, no time to even finish speaking. The light sears their eyes. Someone screams and when the light fades, Tony's panting, breath coming in jagged bursts as he stares at the spot Steve had been sitting in moments before.

The stool is empty, the two halves of the Orb now lying on the table besides Clint, who has stumbled to his feet, eyes wide with horrified shock.

"What the fuck?" Clint bellows. He lunches for Strange, fisting his lapels and jerking him forward. "What did that thing do to him?"

"I have no idea," Strange sounds as rattled as Tony feels. He attempts to peal Clint's fingers away, but Clint's having none of it.

"Why did he do that?" Natasha asks. Panic makes her voice tight and Tony sees her fingers are clenched around her gun. "Why would he open it?"

They all look at each other helplessly. No one can answer her question.

"Did it vaporize him?" Tony flinches at Bruce's question. The doctor sends him an apologetic grimace before focusing his gaze back on Strange.

Unwillingly they all look down at the stool. There's nothing resembling ash, but there's nothing saying that Steve was unscathed either. Emotions ram all rational thought from Tony's head. Steve is gone. Steve, their overly serious, overly vanilla super solider could very well be dead.

And it was all Strange's fault.

Natasha saw fury ignite in Tony's eyes, but there's no time to warn Strange even if she felt inclined to, before Tony's arm whizzed past Clint's head and connected with Strange's jaw. The man reels backward as Clint looses his grip, sending Strange backward. The back of his head connects with the table on the way. It sounds like an egg hitting the side of a metal mixing bowl, but Natasha can't even drum up enough emotion to wonder if he's okay. All she can think is that Steve is gone. Tears flood her eyes.

_Please, don't let him be dead_, she pleads with whoever might be listening. _Please, let him be alright_.

* * *

><p>Roaring wind and blinding light rob Steve of any sense of direction or space. It floods his vision, deafening him to everything but the frantic pounding of his heartbeat and what sounds like screaming voices masquerading as wind.<p>

"Help!" he screams. The word barely makes it past his lips before being plucked away and swallowed. Wind buffets him, pulling and tugging in every direction, until Steve can't tell if he's still upright or tumbling and twisting through the air.

When it ends, it ends so abruptly that for a moment Steve thinks he died without noticing. The silence is eerie after all the noise and there's nothing but darkness beyond Steve's clamped shut eyelids for several long, hushed minutes. Then something rustles off to his left and Steve snaps his eyes open.

A fire burns in a grate in front of him, casting shadows across the face of the woman sitting in a chair by the fire, the fire turning her auburn hair into burnished copper. Her skin is a warm violet color that contrasts startlingly with her eyes which are gold and slit like a cats.

"Welcome, Steven," she says in a voice like warm caramel. "I've been waiting for you." She gestures to the open space on the loveseat besides her and gingerly Steve takes it. This close she smells of cinnamon and a spice he doesn't recognize, but that instantly reminds him of Mrs. Barnes butter cake.

"How do you know my name?" Steve asks.

"Because you have my stone," her hands slide around Steve's clenched fist and he starts badly, remembering for the first time that he's still holding the Power Stone. He lets go of it so quickly it would have fallen into the fire if the woman hadn't caught it.

She smiles. "You have nothing to fear, my love, my stone will not harm you."

He looks at her skeptically and makes no move to take the stone back from her outstretched hand. "No offence, ma'am, but I've seen one of those things in action."

"Have you now?" she raises one spiked eyebrow. "And you still touched this one? How odd."

It _is _odd and Steve has no logical explanation for why he knowingly touched an object known for vaporizing any human unlucky enough to come in contact with it. Then again…

"Why didn't it hurt me?"

The women smiles, gently stroking the stone with her fingers. "Because I did not wish it to. I wished to speak with you."

"How did you know I'd touch it?"

"Ah," a look that would have been sheepish on any other face softens her eyes and mouth. "I might have had a bit to do with that. You see, I've been waiting for eons for my stone to be in the presence of someone strong enough to protect it. When I felt you I called out to you." She reaches forward and squeezes Steve's hands with her free one. "I'm so glad you answered my call."

A blush floods Steve's cheeks and neck. He dips his head to get away from the warm affection in her eyes. He's seen that look a lot the last couple of weeks. Mostly from Natasha and Pepper. And it never fails to embarrass him.

"I'll help anyway I can," he says. He fiddles with his pajama sleeve. A yawn nearly snaps his face in too and the woman stands, moving off, and returning with a delicate china teacup on a saucer.

"Here," she hands it to him. The scent of rosehips floods his nose and he looks up in surprise.

"That smells just like Ma used to make!"

"Then your mother had good taste as this is excellent tea." The woman watches as Steve gulps it down, tiny face relaxing in pleasure as the familiar taste hits his tongue, the warmth cascading to his core. "Steven, there is much I wish to discuss and we have little time."

The change in tone makes Steve pause. He blinks at her warily, her smile not lessening the sudden unease curdling the tea in his stomach.

"I'm listening," he says. He puts the teacup down and turns to face her completely, skinny knees to his chest and fingers knotted around his covered toes.

Her eyes study him, their golden color darkening as the light in the room dims. "My name is Nemesis. Once this gem was part of me. As were the others. But that was long ago."

"A part of you?" Something cold settles in Steve's churning stomach. That, and her name does not inspire confidence.

"Yes." She looks away and the sadness radiating from her makes Steve ache to crawl into her lap and give her a hug, even as the grown up in him demands more information.

"What are you?" Steve asks.

"A ghost," a wisp of a smile touches her lips. "Long gone from any mortal plane. All that connects me to the world now is this stone. I lost connection with the others so long ago I barely remember what they felt like."

A ghost. Steve eyes her doubtfully. She looks as solid as he feels. "If you're a ghost," he says. "Then how can you touch anything?"

"I cannot in your world. That is why I brought you here. This is the only realm I have existence in."

This 'realm' appears to consist of not much more than the room they are sitting in, the edges fading into murky darkness that Steve's eyes cannot focus on. "If the stones were once a part of you, do you know how to destroy them?"

"There is no way to destroy them, my love. They are all that is left of my physical being. They will exist as long as there is a universe for them to exist in."

This conclusion seems to sadden her. It frustrates Steve. "But you must know how to deactivate them."

"In a way, yes," she nods, some of the sadness fleeing from her face. "They can be neutralized."

Relief begins a slow burn inside Steve's heart. "How?"

"They must be tuned to a person with a pure heart and the strength of a lion, whose goodness is brighter than the brightest star in any galaxy."

A person with a pure heart…

Steve chews his lip, trying to think of anyone he knows who would fit that description. Thor is strong, but while the man is overwhelming loyal, he doesn't know if that is the type of pure heart or goodness she means. Pepper is good. Practically a saint to put up with all the things Tony has pulled over the years, but she lacks the physical strength Thor and Bruce in his Hulk state have. Bruce…he's a good man, but there's an anger inside him that speaks to a darkness in his character that Steve is wary of. Same, really, with Tony, Natasha, and Clint. Peggy would have been a good choice, he thinks, but her doctors doubt she'll last much longer. Steve closes his eyes. _Don't think of that, Rogers. Don't think of how much time you lost._

Nemesis clears her throat and Steve looks up to find her watching him in amusement. "Having trouble?" she asks.

"It's a lot to put on one person," he says. "And I don't know a lot of people."

"You know one person who would be a perfect candidate," she smiles, amusement never leaving her face.

"Who?"

An eyebrow quirks, her eyes never leaving Steve's face. He shifts, uncomfortable with the knowing way she's watching him. "You don't mean…_me_ do you?" he says after a moment. "I'm not, I mean," he flounders. "That doesn't sound like me," he finishes weakly.

Bell like laughter fills the air. "And that," Nemesis says, "Is exactly why you are the perfect choice."

"But—"

"No." Nemesis closes her hands around Steve's, her palms warming him through. "Steve, there is a reason, the stone brought you to me. It would have simply destroyed you if you were not strong enough to wield it."

"But I'm not strong. Not really." Bitter anger pushes at Steve and for a moment he can't hold it in. "I haven't told the others, but this body," he points to himself, "is weak. I can feel my heart stutter if I walk too fast, my lungs burn all the time, I'm allergic to everything. Hell, a stiff breeze could probably kill me. And I'm not good. I hate being here. I miss Ma and Bucky and Brooklyn. And Peggy." Tears blind him, choking his words off. He's sobbing, unable to control the grief as the scabs he formed around his heart burst and bled. "I try," he whispers as Nemesis pulls him into her arms. "I try so hard to be okay with being here. But I'm not. I want to go _home_."

The way he wails that last word would have melted the hardest heart. And Nemesis, for all that her name means enemy, is not hard hearted. Gently, she rocks the small boy, a lullaby older than time itself whispered in his ear. Gradually, his sobs lessen, the tension draining away. Her shoulder is damp so she shifts him to her other shoulder.

"Steve," she strokes her fingers through his blond hair, relishing the silky smoothness of it. "You are the strongest being I have ever encountered. I felt you when you touched my stone. Felt your goodness. Your kindness. Your desire to do the right thing no matter the personal cost. There is no reason to doubt yourself. Even before the enhancements made to you, you were everything a champion needed to be and more."

Her words settle in Steve's ears. He doesn't move. Heaviness pushes at his eyelids, exhaustion winning a battle Steve hadn't realized he'd been fighting. Nemesis is warm and soft and unconsciously he settles deeper into her, wishing to sink into that warmth and wrap it around him. How someone so motherly could be the creator of such powerful—_terrible_—objects as the Tesseract and Loki's scepter, Steve cannot fathom.

"How can I be a champion?" Steve doesn't lift his head. Everything feels weighted down and leaden.

"By being yourself. All you must do to wield my stone is be yourself." Nemesis squeezes Steve and gently eases his back. The Power Stone sits in her hand. Steve eyes it warily.

"But what if someone tries to steal it? How do I hide it?"

Nemesis purses her lips. "It is not in the Power Stone to tamper with time. But I can gift you a bit of my own power. And with the Stone amplifying it, I want you to turn back the clock. Wipe everyone's memories of the Stone. Then go to Thor. You must take the Tesseract and hide it with the Power Stone far from anyone's reach. Only once you have hidden them both, may you return to your rightful place in the time stream."

"I can't do that!" cries Steve. "I don't know any magic. I'll mess it up for sure." Panicked he tries to pull away, but Nemesis's grip only tightens.

"Calm, Steven, calm," she whispers into his ear as she pulls him close once again. "The Power Stone will protect you, give you strength. But do not touch the Tesseract directly. The power of that one is not for you. As long as you follow this instruction, everything will be well."

None of Steve's panic lessens, but a small seed of determination settles in Steve's stomach. If Steve is going to do this, he's going to do it right. Which means gathering all the stones they know about. "What about Loki's scepter? Do you know where it is?"

"Unfortuantley, I do not. As for the other stones, their locations have not yet been revealed to me. But you will know when they have surfaced."

"Will I have to hide those too?"

The smile she gives him is proud and sad in one. "It will be too late to hide if those three appear. But I have every confidence you will have the strength and courage necessary to combat them when called upon."

Her words do not don't comfort Steve in the way he's sure she intends. He eyes the stone and chews his lip. He can't pretend that it isn't fear that keeps him from reaching out and taking it. Can he handle the responsibility that Nemesis is placing on him? Can he handle the pressure of that much power?

"If you can't, then who?"

Startled, Steve looks up to find Nemesis watching him. "No one else has been able to handle my stone, Steven. You must trust yourself." She gives his arm a gentle squeeze. "And you must decide now, my love."

"Right," Steve exhales, shaking out his hands. He can do this. He can feel the Captain America mask settling over him like a cloak. "Let's do this."

"Be brave, young one," says Nemesis. Her fingers begin to glow as she raises her hand above his head. "When I transfer the power to you, you must grab the stone." Steve nods, putting his pounding heart out of his mind as he hovers his hand over the hand holding the stone.

Words in a language Steve doesn't understand flow from Nemesis, the glow getting brighter with each word. Then, quick as a snake, Nemesis's hand connects with his forehead. It's like being made into Captain America all over again. The rush, the singing, _burning _pain of it. Steve thinks he might have screamed, but he forces his hand downward. His fingers connect with the stone and he's sucked away into the cold, starry, night.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: For the purposes of this fic the events of Thor: The Dark World haven't happened. I have not seen the movie so it is not in my personal head-cannon. Finding the fourth stone (the aether) will have to happen later on in this universe. **


	12. Chapter 12

** Chapter 12**

Silence.

It engulfs Steve, drowning out everything until all he is aware of is the horrible, ringing, emptiness of the space around him. The Power Stone warms his palm, a steady presence in the silence.

When he risks opening his eyes, he is back in Tony's lab. The others are frozen: Dr. Strange on the floor; Bruce, green faced, shoulders bunched as he fights down the Other Guy; Natasha comforting Clint; Tony opening the drinks cabinet, knuckles white even from here.

Nemesis' power pulses in his head, knowledge he shouldn't have whispering in his ear. It's barely a trickle, all the ghost of that once powerful being could give. But it reaches for the Power Stone. Or maybe the Power Stone reaches for it. And the world opens up. Steve reaches, not with hands, but with mind into each of the people surrounding him. Memories scowl inside and it takes no power at all to delete them. Dr. Strange takes the longest, his memories of the Power Stone stretching back the farthest. But Steve can't risk Strange looking for the Power Stone again. He doesn't erase the man's memory of the Tesseract or Loki's Scepter, but it's the work of a moment to twist those memories slightly, to insert the desire to contact the Avenger's only if he locates the scepter before they do. Without setting the spidrill's on anyone this time.

It takes a little more power to move Strange and the others backward in time. Well, more than a little. From Strange's memories it looks like he'd been planning this for weeks. With his memories gone there's no reason Steve has to back up that far. But he has to back them up far enough that Strange won't be doing something involved in his crazy plot. Running through Strange's memories, Steve decides to drop him early in the morning three days into the past. But if he does that, he'll have to erase all traces of why Strange had been running around creating spidrill's in the first place.

No sooner does the thought form, but it's done. Strange looks strange asleep, without his cape and on his stomach. Steve can't help but giggle at the long chain of drool dangling from the magician's mouth onto his pillow. Time still frozen, Steve uses Strange's memories to guide him and systemically erases all traces of Strange's search for the Power Stone. He's careful. He tries not to leave any obvious holes. Strange has other odd projects he's been working on. More than enough to explain the spidrills.

It takes longer than he's comfortable with. He can feel Nemesis's power beginning to drain away, the mere wisp she was able to hand over dwindling even as the Stone fights to amplify it.

_I just need enough to get to Thor_, Steve thinks. He doesn't know if he has enough. Can't tell how much power opening up a way between worlds would require. From the spike of pain that runs through his head, the Stone is beginning to scrape bottom.

Suddenly the aches Steve's been ignoring clamor for his attention. His joints send off sharp reminders that he should still be in bed, while his nose and throat pick that moment to start burning with pain again. He tries to ignore it all, but a sneeze is coming. It builds in his chest, rips at his sore throat and explodes from his nose, snapping his head forward with an explosive noise.

On the bed, Strange jolts awake, twisting himself further into the blankets as he attempts to get up. For a second Steve's sure Strange's seen him, but everything disappears in sparkling light and Steve is suddenly sitting up in an unfamiliar bed, Pepper leaning over him.

"—ease try to drink this, sweetie. I promise it will make you feel better," Pepper is saying. Chest heaving, Steve's eyes dart around the room. Two beds with fluffy white comforters, generic art on the walls. They're back in the hotel in Washington D.C. The Power Stone is heavy in his hand and he darts it under the covers, covering the movement by pulling the covers up to his chin. He eyes the green liquid in the spoon Pepper's holding out, nose wrinkling as he catches wind of the heavy medicinal smell of Nyquil. He hates Nyquil.

His chest is heavy, the cold that he'd mostly knocked out back with a vengeance. He manages to swallow the teaspoon before a wet cough escapes and then another, until he's doubled over under the weight of them. Pepper tries to comfort him, pats him on the back and holds a towel under his mouth so he can spit out the phlegm he's hacking up.

"It's okay," she whispers as she rubs his back feeling every knot of his spine and the hard protrusion of shoulder blade. Time stretches away, Steve's entire world condensing to the way his throat and chest and head are trying to split themselves apart. Finally he collapses bonelessly against Pepper. Breathes shudder out and he keeps his eyes closed, relishing the warmth of her, the softness of her sweater against his damp cheek.

"I'm—okay," he finally manages to get out.

Pepper helps him lie back against the high stack of pillows. Happy had entered the room at some point and hands her a glass of water, which she takes and holds for Steve to drink. Steve thinks that that water is the best thing he's ever tasted.

He tells them so.

Pepper smiles and déjà vu sweeps over Steve when Happy laughs, his belly shaking with the force of it. He'd told them that the last time, he thinks. Seeing that Steve is okay for the moment, Pepper stands and tells him they'll be in the outer room and that he should get some sleep.

Steve isn't about to argue. He's exhausted and he needs to get them out of the room. The second the door clicks shut Steve brings his hand out from under the covers. Purple light leaks from between his fingers and he breathes a sigh of relief. The Stone is okay. But what is he going to do with it now?

He can't put it anywhere someone might accidently touch it. Which means keeping it on his person. His pj's are pocketless though. He eyes the jacket hanging across the room in the wardrobe. He doesn't know if he has the strength to stand, let alone the strength to make it over there.

The Stone apparently thinks differently. The thought had no sooner entered his head, when strength floods his limbs. It feels amazing even though it does nothing for the pain, nothing for the sinus pressure threatening to tear his head into pieces. He slides from the bed, knocking pillows everywhere.

Something flutters past. Steve grabs for it. It's a picture. Of him and Bucky. Where had it come from? There's a number scrawled in pen on the back. His heart starts beating faster. Bucky must have left it when he visited. How had Steve not noticed before?

Looks like he'd have to thank Dr. Strange whenever he meets him next for forcing Steve to come back here. Now Steve can contact Bucky. And hopefully help his friend.

Feeling lighter than he has in days, Steve hurries to the wardrobe and pulls the battered, old compass from his jacket pocket. Opening it, he runs a finger over Peggy's face, finding the edges of her picture. Sliding it clear he folds the picture of him and Bucky into a tiny square and presses it against the metal before folding Peggy's picture back on top of it. The Power Stone is placed in the cavity between the picture and the compass's face (a space Steve is sure wasn't that large a moment again, but is now the perfect size for the Stone).

Sure it's as safe as it can be, Steve puts the compass back and turns for the bed. He barely makes it before all the borrowed strength from the Stone deserts him. Giving the wardrobe one last glance, Steve lets himself relax and sink into the bedding. He falls asleep instantly.

**A/N: Hopefully I got the workings of the Power Stone correct. And if not, then just pretend this is how it would work ;) Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and all of you who've made it this far! I hope you continue to enjoy this story and happy reading! **


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

**A/N: I decided to post two chapters today as this one isn't every long, so if you've missed chapter 12 go back! Thanks to everyone for reading!**

* * *

><p>Steve lets the next few days play out as they did before, too sick really to do otherwise. He does, however, sneak one of Nat's guns into the family room and hides it under the blanket while watching 'Brave'. Nothing happens and this time Steve is picked up and carted off to bed by Nat, who thankfully doesn't question why Steve needed to drag an entire fluffy comforter into the family room.<p>

It's not until the next morning that he puts his plan into action. Nemesis said he needed to get the Tesseract from Thor. Steve's not sure how to get in contact with Thor, but he does know one person who does: Jane Foster from New Mexico.

Jarvis, luckily, doesn't ask why Steve needs to contact her and sets up a video call from the computer in Steve's bedroom. He could have made the call from bed, but he's restless and done with lying still. He stands in front of the desk and breathes a sigh of relief when Jane answers.

"Hi?" It's a question more than a greeting.

Steve's face flushes. That's right, he'd forgotten Jane doesn't know about his new…look.

"Hi, Miss Foster, it's me, Steve Rogers," he smiles at her, somehow managing not to fidget as incomprehension gives way to shock on her face.

"Oh my god," Jane says. "Steve Rogers? As in Captain America? What happened?"

"It's a long story," he says shrinking back slightly from the monitor. He had no idea anyone could sound so shrill. "Do you think you could put me in touch with Thor, please, ma'am?" He says the last in a rushed attempt to distract her. To his surprise it works.

"Oh, Thor is here," she smiles at him. She still looks confused, even as she goes to fetch him.

Steve can't believe his luck. Still can't believe it when he hears Thor's booming voice and the god himself swings into view. He's dressed in jeans and a plain white tee, muscles bulging and rippling in a way that he knows distracts even Natasha. Not that he's ever called her on it. But there's a reason Steve never pairs the two together.

"Captain!" Thor gapes at Steve comically. "What foul enchantment has befallen you?"

"It's not that bad," Steve says not wanting to get into it. "It's only for sixty days, well fifty-one days now. Then I'll be back to normal." He hopes.

"Ah," Thor frowns at him. "Do you wish me to take care of those who dared to bewitch you?"

"No," Steve shakes his head. "There's no need. But I do need your help."

"Name it!"

Even though Thor sounds as open and friendly as ever, Steve hesitates. He's been thinking over what to say to Thor for days, but the only thing he can come up with is a lie. Steve hates lying. He isn't good at it. He can feel the silence stretching, feel confusion beginning to gather over Thor's brow like a miniature thundercloud, and forces himself to speak.

"I was wondering if you could take me to visit Asgard," the words come out in one, breathless rush. Steve's sure his face is flaming, but he forces himself to continue. "It's so boring here, Thor, and you promised to take me. You said we'd get to see your dad's hall of treasures and the Bifrost bridge and meet all your friends and drink meed." Steve lays it on thick. He's learned from watching how Tony, Bruce, Clint, Pepper, and Natasha react to this particular tone of voice and knows that if he widens his eyes and tilts his head just so they'll give him whatever he wants.

Thor is no exception.

"Of course, young Steven!" Thor pounds the table. "This would be a most advantageous time to visit my home world! Mother was just complaining that I have not visited with her enough since coming to Midgard." He grabs Jane's hand. "And Jane, my love, has not yet had the pleasure of an Asgardian sunset."

Jane blushes as red as Steve as Thor's suggestive tone. She swats his shoulder. "Are you sure that's a good idea? I thought your father…"

"Father will not mind!" Thor rises. "He will love you both!" He points at the screen. "I will come for you within the hour, young Steven! Where is Darcy? Darcy!" Thor hurries off screen, his booming voice rattling through the speakers as he calls for Darcy to bring him his suitcase.

Jane rolls her eyes and sends Steve a bemused look. "I suppose we'll be seeing you soon."

"Yeah…" Jane doesn't look excited and as Steve signs off he can't help but wonder if he's doing the right thing.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry if Thor isn't Thor-like. I've never even thought of writing him and have only seen Thor (the first movie) once when it came out so if any of my information is wrong, blame it on lack of memory J Next chapter: a bit of Bucky and some Asgardian fun and games!**


End file.
